Red - Discontinued
by TheSkySpiritsTalentShow
Summary: Your name is Kankri Vantas and there s a child bleeding to death on your porchstep. Pale Kankri/Karkat. AU where Kankri s a librarian and adopts an amnesia alien kid
1. Prolouge

Your name is Kankri Vantas and you´ve come to a slight disappointing conclusion. No matter how long you frown at the stack of payment bills in front of you on the kitchen counter, they just won´t disappear.

You suppose half of them are from the renovations of the new library you recently gained ownership of. Last week ago, a rather awful pipe leakage ruined most of the yet empty shelves and the gray carpet you had put in by a good friend when you first bought the place. Fortunately, you haven´t gotten around to putting the books up yet, they were still stored in your attic for labeling when the surprise flood happened.

This served as a misfortune as well. You were almost done with setting everything up and opening ´´Vantas´ World of Imagination´´.

Your friend, Cronus Ampora, the same one who did the carpeting job, laughed when he first heard the name and called it gay. After scolding him on how he shouldn´t use that word especially not with such a tone of voice since it could have negative outcomes to any homosexual with a self loathing issue on his sexual orientation who might´ve heard him right then, you told him that your first choice was ´´Vantas´ Enlightening Literature Reading Nook´´ but Aranea had a reasonable argument as to why that title wasn´t fitting. So you went along with her idea and you had every intention on keeping it, despite tactless scorners might say.

And you did. But now it´s going to take a couple of months or so until you can actually open your library.

You like to think of yourself as a very calm and reasonable person, so you refuse to throw any childish tantrums about it or let your good mood be affected.

You start sorting the bills and working up plans on how to manage them with what little money you have left from your previous jobs.

An hour later, you decide to make yourself some coffee. It was only 10 PM, but seeing as the bill pile wasn´t getting any smaller any time soon, you figure you require a cup now.

As the machine started brewing, you rest your head in your hand and think back of what inspired you to start your own business in the first place.

Some of your university friends, namely Aranea Serket and Damara Megido decided they wanted to open up a small restaurant at a local mall. Their idea was extraordinary as well, they wanted it to be a mix of the English and Asian cultures. They settled for an underwater theme, completed with sunken pirate ships and dark haired boys with tentacles painted on the walls with life sized prints.

Despite the amount of potential triggers in the paintings and almost nonexistent dress code for the employees, it was a hit instantly.

You wanted this for yourself. You didn´t want to spend your life as a waiter, scratching up savings just to get by as you tried to complete your college courses. You wanted your job to be your passion, educating people, lending knowledge and doing it as not just an enjoyable past time, but as a livelihood as well.

And here you are, only steps away from fulfilling the dream. Or, were. You had forgotten about the busted pipe for a moment.

With a heavy sigh, you pour the steaming coffee into a big mug, add two and a half teaspoons of sugar and head back to your seat.

You´ve just taken your place and focused your wandering mind back onto the paper lying in front of you when the doorbell rang, shrill and eerie throughout the silent house, startling you just the slightest.

Confused, you stand up. No one visits you this late at night, unless it´s Peixes, but she tends to hammer on the door unnecessarily and shout ´Kanny´ over and over until you answer.

You make your way to the door, calling out to let them know you are coming. Whoever they are, they´re rather respectable and tolerant. They didn´t knock, shout or ring again.

You unlock the door, open it and come face to face with no one. Your front steps, driveway and district are completely deserted. Not one sign of a vehicle or running pranksters anywhere in sight.

Letting out a tiny huff of displeasure, you turn away. This happened often when you first moved in, but frankly, you anticipated your neighbor´s kids to be past this tomfoolery at their age.

You go to close the door, when a dark form on your door mat catches your eye. At first glance, you think someone´s dog had decided to nap on your mat. When realization slowly bleeds into your thoughts, your hand drops off the doorknob and you stare with a hanging mouth.

You suppose it´s an error in your genetics or whatsoever. Whenever you find yourself in the middle of a particularly horrifying or frightful situation, you freeze up. Your reflexes don´t bother with fight or flight, you stay rooted in your place like a stubborn mule for several seconds before you can trust your body with obeying your mind´s orders again.

While your friends made fun of you because of it, you never thought it was a laughing matter, especially not when you or others might be in danger.

Currently, the latter is correct.

Your name is Kankri Vantas and you have a child bleeding to death on your porch steps.


	2. Chapter 1

Your name is Kankri Vantas and there´s a child bleeding to death on your porch steps.

What will you do?

Come out of your adrenaline induced stupor, for once. You slowly unfreeze with an audible exhale, trembling as you take a step closer.

Panicked thoughts are washing over you like furious waves on a beach and your attempts to smother them are as effective as tossing handfuls of sand on aforementioned waves.

There is a little child all tangled up in old blankets lying on your Please Knock Thank You door mat, and the deep gashes look horrible. You think there´s a great chance that he was mugged. What vile, cruel person would find it in their heart to attack the youngest members of society? You feel an unusual rage bubble up in your chest as you activate the porch light, to help illuminate the other more.

You can´t tell if he´s breathing, his blood is spilling over your front steps like fine red wine leaking across a table top, except that it´s brighter, much brighter than you ever recall blood being from your past brief experiences with injuries.

His skin looks unhealthy. You feel a nauseating twist in your gut. He could already be in early stages of postmortem. The thought unbalances you, sends you another shoot of adrenaline and you are certain you are being triggered now.

But you can´t possibly afford a panic attack, not when this precious preadolescent is dying right at your feet. He can´t look much older than the age of fourteen, from the little you can see of him that is not concealed by the blanket. His life is in your hands now and you have to make sure you don´t waste it by negligent worrying.

You bend down and now you´re definite his skin shouldn´t be this…ashen. You´ve read somewhere that people pale as they bleed out, but you´re not sure if you should take this dark flush as a good sign. You pray he isn´t infected.

This threat serves as another reason to stop stalling and carry him inside.

You hold your breath, trying not to retch as you slip your arms underneath his form. Of course you feel bad for being so dramatic, but you´ve never had so much blood near your personal space before, not even when you were helping your friends at their restaurant and Meenah accidently cut into her thumb while working and bled into the salad she was preparing.

The sweet smell is so overwhelming, you want to vomit. You don´t.

Kankri Vantas, you tell yourself sternly, there is no room for cowardice right now! He needs a responsible adult and you´re the only one around right now to help him!

There´s blood dripping all over your floor, forming a brown trail behind you as you carry him into the kitchen, but you couldn´t be more unconcerned. You pause, wondering where to put him.

The floor won´t do, you don´t really want to get all this mess on the couch or on your bed, lest you throw the furniture away immediately afterwards for hygienic reasons.

So you put him on the dining table. The next seconds you realized that this is not any less unhygienic than the previous two options, but the replacement issue isn´t big.

The boy remains unconscious. You place your hand over his chest. He feels hot, like he´s running a fever. But there´s a heartbeat and slow breathing.

Relief floods you. His chances of survival seem clearer to you and with some of the fear subsided, you´re more determined.

You start mentally checking off everything you need: the first aid kit, maybe some pain relieving pills, rubbing alcohol and towels…lots of them.

You head to your bathroom. You´ll save a life today, you tell yourself. Maybe make a new friend. A certainly interesting tale to tell at the next relative meeting.

As you search through the medicine cabinet, you get the thought that you should probably call 911 first. If the boy´s injuries are worse than they look and you fail to save him, his death will be your responsibility.

You feel your heart sink, but decide to call the hospital from your kitchen phone. The least you can do right now is stop his bleeding anyway, or else he´ll certainly suffer more before they get here.

You recall how once you called an animal hospital once after saving a small sparrow with a broken wing from the neighbor´s ferret. It died from shock before they managed to find their way to the neighborhood. Your vicinity's location is not an easy one to find. You weren´t going to risk that with a human boy…

You assume they´re masculine. The tangled blanket covered most of their body, but you noticed short black hair when you carried them in. You make a mental note of checking their gender first before addressing them with any false pronouns. The last thing you want is to give the impression that you´re an ill-mannered individual. Which you´re not.

As you near the dining room, you pick up small shuffling and groans. They must be regaining consciousness. You slow your pace and enter the room, forcing a smile onto your lips. They´re a child and what child wouldn´t be frightened if they found themselves in an unfamiliar room with an unfamiliar man.

You hope you don´t upset them all too badly.

The kid´s sitting up and they´re rubbing their eyes dazedly. You have enough time to think that you were right, he is a boy, considering the male features and lack of feminine clothes to prove otherwise, before your supplies slip from your grasp and clatter to the floor.

For the second time this night, you´re frozen.

At the sound of your rather loud arrival, the kid turns and his red eyes widen in fear and seemingly disbelief. He scrambles back and suddenly, there are sickles in his hands. Clawed hands, gold talons, brighter than the yellow surrounding his peculiar irises.

You don´t think you can even begin to process what you´re seeing. Claws, horns, fangs, grey skin, red eyes, sickles.

It´s like a character from that one horror movie you watched last October stepped out of the screen and into your life. Impossible, you know, but reality can´t erase the cowering, bloody figure before you.

He doesn´t speak, just holds his weapons in front of him like he´s trying to shield himself. From…you. He looks terrified.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

The kid is flinches.

You release your breath and your fingers curl into your sweater, straightening it. You can´t just stand there all night, you´re going to be a good host and try to talk to him, if he speaks English, that is.

"Who are you?" You try, politely.

Your guest scowls and you wonder if you were either too blunt or if he doesn´t share your language.

"I was wondering the same fucking thing." He replies. "What kind of freakishly disaster of nature are you?"

So he does understand you. However, that reply simply won´t do.

"Excuse me, young man, but I have to advise you to watch your language. I understand you might be in shock due to recent events, but I cannot have you spewing foul words around. Even though I particularly don´t mind them all that much, due to my long term friendship with a certain Ampora, Peixes and Strider, I believe that it would be in your best interest to tone down any offensive attacks in your speech, if you´re going to socialize with-"

"Hold on!"

Usually, when someone interrupts you, you courteously ask them to let you finish, however the urgency in his voice stops you.

A wild look is on his face as he searches around the room with his eyes, until they land back on yours. He glares and it´s a well practiced, withering look.

"Where the hell is Sollux?!"

"I´m sorry, who?"

"Sollux! The yellow blooded asshole with the four horns and funny lisp!"

You hope he´s joking. You can´t imagine having another one roaming about your house and while you´re aware how socially insensitive you sound, you want to spare yourself the extra drama.

This boy´s already a handful and you´ve only made his acquaintance approximately two minutes ago.

"May I request your attention." You say.

His eyes fall on you and he raises his eyebrows. "What?" He demands.

You make a mental note to lecture him on the topic of addressing elders respectively.

"I am not familiar with your species or your culture, young alien, so I encourage you to let me know if anything I say offends or causes you distress in any way. First of all, can I ask of your name?"

The horned boy is eyeing you, but he looks more dumbfounded than wary. You try not to imagine that this might be the first time anyone has ever talked to him so politely, because that would be judgmental and unfair to his ethnicity.

"Karkat." He finally says.

"Karkat?"

"Trolls don´t have last names."

"So you identify your race as trolls? I apologize if that was a presumptuous statement and if I´m incorrect, by all means, you shouldn´t feel shy as to right anything I might say."

Karkat makes an impatient noise and you pause to look at him with poorly veiled concern.

"Are you alright?" You inquire.

He opens his mouth to respond, but you save him the trouble right away.

"Are you in pain? Have you been triggered? I should´ve known. I am terribly sorry, Karkat, I´m rather new to exploring other civilization, even if I did take a three week trip to Brazil to educate myself on the ways of life so far away from modern society-"

"Holy shit, shut the fuck up for one damn second! And no, I told you to shut up, I don´t want to hear it. Close your mouth asshole, and listen to me."

He gestures wildly to the forgotten supplies lying at your feet.

"I might not recognize half of the shit you brought in here, but I know a kit of injury assisting utensils when I see one. Un-fucking-fortunately, I´m trapped here on this table and unable to move because of all these fucktons of wounds shooting horrible pains through my body when I do so much as flex and I´m getting my disgusting mutant blood all over your eating surface. So I would appreciate it if you would stop yapping your trigger bullshit and lend me a hand here, is that too much to ask?"

You take a moment to pick your jaw off the ground, metaphorically speaking of course, and another to find your words that seemed to have escaped you during his angry speech.

The troll is tapping his claws impatiently against wooden surface of your dining table and you decide to not reply to any of that and pick the medical supplies off your floor.

You approach him, both of you tense and carefully watching the other´s movements, and hand him the kit, a towel and rubbing alcohol.

"Do you, uh, know how to apply these?" You ask.

"Of course, I´m not a wriggler." He responds, taking the supplies.

You want to ask him what a wriggler is, but he anticipates this and gives you a warning look. You don´t think you´ve ever met someone with such a short temper as Karkat.

Even Meenah puts up with considerably much. You suspect that the reason for this is due to the fact that she likes pointing out people´s thickness or disrespectfulness. Peixes never passes up an opportunaty to get into fights.

You return to reality to find Karkat messily wrapping the bandages around his upper arm, creating more of a mess than a proper binding.

"Should I assist you in wrapping that?"

"I´m fine."

"I don´t mean to be contradictory, but it doesn´t look like you´re doing it correctly."

"I said I´m fine, nookstain."

"Karkat, please refrain from using foul words, even if I haven´t got the faintest what that word means, I can´t imagine it´s meant to be pleasant."

"Earthling."

"Kankri Vantas."

"Kankri."

"Yes, Karkat?"

"Shut the fuck up and help me."

It looks like he had exhausted his supposed first aid knowledge, he is tying complicated knots to keep the white bandages secure, and they are still slipping.

You reach over and start undoing all of his messy work. You half expected him to react viciously to you actually touching him, but he only complains about the bandages.

"Those were fine just the way they were, Kankri!"

"No they weren´t." You say. "The wounds weren´t protected or disinfected. Not to sound racist here, but how do you clean wounds on your planet?"

Karkat shrugs. "Whenever I get hurt, which wasn´t very often because I was always really fucking careful," you detect subtle hints of pride and self loathing in his voice, "my lusus would clean them for me."

"May I inquire what a lusus is?"

"Gog, you earthlings are so fucking stupid. Lusi! Custodians! Don´t you have anyone that raises you and teaches you how to fight and read and kill?"

You drop the dirtied bandages in a heap and go into the kitchen with a towel to wet it. When you return to the dining table, you start to clean caked filth and blood away from Karkat´s injuries, earning a sharp hiss of pain.

"My apologies. We have parental figures for those fortunate enough to have them and guardians for those who have lost their biological kin due to catastrophes in nature and everyday life. The life skills they pass onto us are less violent and more fitting for a peaceful society that encourages its members to grow together socially and mentally. There are a few exceptions, for example, instances where the guardian might be underage, abusive or slaves to their own addictions. Those scenarios are tragic and can often lead to scar the-"

"I don´t know how to break this to you, Vantas, but I couldn´t give any less fucks. I give none of them."

"You asked me a question, Karkat and I simply answered." You try not to sound too peeved.

"You didn´t simply answer. You cannot simply answer! I don´t think your thick, human think pan even comprehends the word simple!"

"Alright, how about we continue this in silence then, shall we?"

"Sounds fucking great."

The room goes quiet again save for the sounds of the towel scraping off grime or an occasional protest when you get too rough, his noises of discomfort heavy in your ear.

You only then break the silence when you ask him to take off his clothes.

He gives you a rather unpleasant look.

"I need to have free access to your wounds and your extensive garments are concealing any possibly infected injuries. I wish there was a way we could make this more comfortable for you, but the only option is treating you in your sleep and I highly doubt that would be any better."

"Yeah, no shit." He grumbles, but obediently, if hesitantly, slides off his sweater. Jeans follow shortly after.

Bizarre body marks extend over his ashen skin. You refrain from commenting on anything, lest you make him feel more unnerved.

You were right to initiate his near nudeness however, as you come across more ghastly gashes and bruises requiring immediate medical attention.

You remoisten the towel and get to work. The young troll hardly fidgets, except when you bring out the rubbing alcohol, and when you spare a few glances at him, you could see his eyes wandering over everything in the room, studying details and objects that are new to him.

More than once you feel overwhelmed by the urge to start explaining everything to him, educating him on a new culture you doubt even his…lusus, custodian, parental figure knew about.

More than once you feel his eyes scanning over your features and you don´t allow yourself to look up when he does.

"All done." You declare fifteen minutes later, stepping back from him and examining your neat handiwork with a small sense of pride.

Karkat looks down and prods at a bandaged spot. Then, apparently finished with double checking the quality, he catches your eyes. "Thanks…" He says and it sounds…bashful? Grateful at any rate, even if his expression is still a bit sour.

"Don´t mention it, I couldn´t leave you like that, could I?"

"Can I put my clothes back on now?"

You frown and his expression drops as well.

"What?"

"I don't think that would be wise. They´re still dirty and torn. I´ll clean them and ask a friend of mine to patch them up for you, I doubt she would mind. For now, let me see if I have anything wearable. Stay here."

As you walk out, you catch him mumble to himself, "Fucking great, friendship is a thing here on earth as well."

You make a mental note to pursue that topic for a later conversation.

Unfortunately, you don´t find anything in his size. How could you anyway, you have no connections to children, much less teenagers. You were an only child and none of your friends are married as well.

The best thing you can give him is one of your shirts. At the very least, it will be long enough to reach to his knees as well. You hate to force this kind of situation upon a stranger, but it is only for his own good.

You enter the dining room and find an empty table. Your heart skips a few beats.

"Karkat?" You call out, unable to veil the concern in your voice.

"In here."

The voice is coming from your living room. You follow it and find a young troll sitting in a pile of sofa cushions. You raise your eyebrows.

"What are you doing?"

"I´m sitting, what does it look like I´m fucking doing, dipshit?" He fires back, but it sounds less angry than before. You figure he must be getting tired, which is only understandable considering everything he went through today.

"You can sleep on the sofa as well, young Karkat, I don´t mind."

The horned boy had already settled himself back the cushions and gives you a tired glare.

"What the fuck is a sofa?"

You don´t know how to respond to that. He doesn´t seem to care either. So you tell him goodnight and head for your own bed, any previous work forgotten as exhaustion overwhelms you.

This is going to be quite the experience.


	3. Chapter 2

You wake the next morning, wondering if last night was a product of late coffee and overworking.

Your friends often tell you to take more breaks. You always tell them you are fine, you might be hard working, but your health hadn´t suffered so far.

Now you´re not so sure.

You get out of bed and perform your morning ritual of opening the window, straightening your covers and getting dressed. Today was the usual, long comfortable trousers and a red turtleneck sweater. You can´t explain why you love that old sweater so much. It had been a gift from your mother ages ago and yet it still seemed to fit perfectly.

Opening the door, you step out into the hallway and listen. The house was silent. You proceed, cautiously. You don´t want to say you were scared of the horned boy, though you can´t stop the instinctive discomfort of strange company welling up inside of you.

You suppose it came with the knowledge of responsibility, that however he came to this planet, he ended up with you. While you aren´t a barbarian or anything of that sort, you keep imagining worst case scenarios, accidently poisoning him with earthly food, baring him to triggering situations that he´d feel helpless to, soiling his opinion about humans and so on.

You aren´t sure what to say or how to act. Do you treat him like a guest or like a college dorm mate? What do people normally do in these situations?

You decide first things first, that you´ll wake him up and see how it goes from there.

When you enter the living room, you spot the minor changes immediately. All the curtains had been closed and secured by being weighed with your house plants. Karkat had moved the cushion pile into a corner next to the small television. It´s the only corner in the room where the sun couldn´t touch, if it were able to shine in at all.

The troll is curled up in his pile, a bundle of hair, horns, and your old shirt. You are aware how domestic it was to give him your shirt and though you had a fair reason for it, light pink starts to dust your cheeks.

You push the thoughts away and slowly approach your otherworldly visitor. He doesn´t move. You stand over him, wondering if you should shake him awake, would that be inacceptable, impolite or would it scare him, should you call his name?

Nothing moved for a few moments more, until you step back, as quiet as you´re capable of, and walk into the kitchen.

He´ll wake up when he´s ready. When it happens, he´ll probably be hungry. You don´t want to seem like a discourteous host, so you start on breakfast.

You´ve cooked two eggs, some bacon, toasted four slices of bread and made one of your personal favorite breakfast dish, yogurt with fresh, cut fruits when shuffling footsteps signal the awakening of Karkat.

You turn to greet him, but was met with a puzzling sight. He had taken one of your long, dark winter coats hanging in the hallstand and had draped it over his head, buttoning it up until the only thing that peeked out were his bright orange eyes.

"Good morning…" you say, unable to hide the confusion in your voice.

"Is your species braindead or something? What the actual fuck are you thinking?!"

"Excuse me?"

"The sunlight, nookstain! You´re going to sizzle like eggs in a frying pan!"

"The sunlight. It´s not-"

"Or maybe the skin of humans are resistant of the deadly rays? Like jade bloods…" His eyes slightly widen, but he´s going too fast for you.

"I´m sorry, you´ve completely lost me."

He rolls his eyes and suddenly you feel just as impatient with him.

"Sure, I´ll tell you all about the dangers of the sun. I´ll be your earth human lusus. Do you want me to warn you about the ocean as well?"

"What´s in the ocean?"

He huffs.

You cross your arms sternly. "Did it ever occur to you, that given the fact we´re two different species, our planets might not share similarities in natural threats? I can assure you our sun is in most cases harmless."

"Most cases."

"And I´d like you to take off my coat, you look utterly ridiculous."

He takes a several steps back. "Whoa, hold up there, you just said it yourself, we´re different species. Believe me, the last thing you want is a puddle of molten troll mutant goo on your floor."

You are about to argue, when the near burnt smell of meat alerts you. You turn back to the frying pan and rattle it to shove the bacon slices around. They hiss loudly and oil spits up onto your wrists.

Karkat lingers in the doorway, watching you. You look back at him.

"Take off the coat and join me for breakfast, then we can talk about cultural differences."

He hesitates, and you can see him battling with himself whether to trust you or not. Finally he walks over to the window and slips a hand out of the coat.

You pretend not to watch as he holds it warily out in the sun´s beam, preparing to yank it back if it gets too hot. Shoveling the bacon strips onto a plate, you see him hold up his hand in wonder, as if he couldn´t believe it didn´t explode into flames. Or whatever terrible fate he had expected.

Over breakfast you barely talk, much to your disappointment. You suppose it´s due to Karkat finding out how human food tastes like. He tries a bit of everything, you feel proud of him for giving a new culture a chance, and quickly singles out his likes and dislikes.

He seems to know what milk and meat is already. Fair enough, you think. You expected other planets to have some kind of equivalent. Cereal is new to him though. He munched on it separately until you told him that it goes with milk.

Karkat gave you a suspicious look before dumping it into his glass and proceeding to drink the cereal mix. Before you could protest, he had moved on to the fruits. He gave those the strangest look.

"Do you know what fruits are, Karkat?" You ask.

"Of course I know what fucking fruits are!" He responds indignantly. "We had different ones on Alternia. Like what the hell is this supposed to be? Some kind of bulge toy?" He waves a banana around.

"That is a banana. Botanically it´s a berry and it grows in clusters on trees, in tropical countries. The banana plant reaches its full height of 15 to 30 feet in about one year and is first recorded in human literature around the 6th century B.C. You eat them like this." You reach over and pluck it out of his hand before he could try to bite into the fruit. After peeling it from its yellow shell, you hand it back to him, continuing your lecture as he chews it thoughtfully.

"Banana plants are members of the genus Musa. The Banana evolved by natural hybridization from two species Musa acuminata and Musa balbisiana. It is believed that there are almost 1000 varieties of bananas in our world today. Isn´t this fascinating? They contain a generous amount of potassium, Vitamin C and dietary fiber-"

"Okay, I think I get it now." Karkat interrupts. "Geez who knew eating breakfast with humans is so informative?" You suspect he´s being insincere. After a moment you´re certain he´s being sarcastic. Well…

"I´m glad that I can be of help, young troll, seeing how education doesn´t seem like something you were used to on your planet, I´m simply delighted for the opportunity and assure you that I can give you all the lectures you desire."

You go back to your coffee and he gives you a hard stare before returning to his explorations of the human vitamins.

After breakfast, you express your desire of going out.

"There are a few things I have to do, including checking my library for any updates and meeting with my friends for a discussion round. I´d bring you along, but-"

"No, no," he interrupted. "I would much rather stay here."

"Yes, that is probably for the best. After all, a troll would not go unnoticed in public. Very well, should I give you a few books to entertain you while I´m gone? Perhaps history or science will interest you."

You expect him to scoff at you and make a remark about how humans are so primitive, but instead he seems to have an inner battle with himself before asking,

"Do you have any romance novels?"

You don´t and now you feel a bit embarrassed. "Actually, I don´t." You say apologetically. You make a mental note to search for any good novels in your library when you stop by.

Karkat looks disappointed, but shrugs. "Okay, whatever. I still have my husktop so you can go talk to your 'friends' and I´ll be here when you return, like a obedient little wriggler waiting for its lusus."

He disappeared back into his pile before you had a chance to ask him about any of those terms.


End file.
